When I was in high school in the mid-1990s in Prishtina, my friends and I would walk to school taking back roads and alleys in order to avoid running into the Serbian police patrolling the main streets. It wasn’t always easy, but we learned the hard way, as many of us had been stopped, harassed and beaten in front of others for no apparent reason. Some of us quit school altogether, as it wasn’t worth it. Soon, many of my friends left Kosovo and emigrated to Europe. Everybody was leaving. Kosovo became a lonely place with plenty of memories.
These teenagers were part of a generation of Kosovars who abandoned their homeland from 1989 to 1999, escaping a repressive political and economic reality that denied them the chance of a proper education and a normal life.
Today they make up 33 per cent of the Kosovar emigré population. While emigration from Kosovo started in the 1960s, about 93 percent of all today’s emigrants from Kosovo left after 1989. Many found work immediately and throughout the dark decade of the 1990s they helped their families, and by extension, their country, to survive choking economic conditions.
A diaspora community, they taxed themselves voluntarily and used the proceeds to finance the parallel system of welfare and education that emerged in Kosovo. This “underground” system educated the youth back home in Kosovo while those living abroad created charities and organizations that funnelled resources to society. In short, this generation was Kosovo’s lifeline.
Contrast that 1990s generation with that of today. That means people born somewhere from 1989 to 1995. This generation came of age during the 2000s, and in 2011 made up 47 percent of the population in Kosovo, according to Kosovo’s Agency of Statistics. A staggering 48 percent of the male population in this group were below the age of 25 in 2011. Since the early 1950s, Kosovo has never had more 10-to-24 year-olds than it has now. This may very well be called Kosovo’s baby-boom generation. It is a generation that is shaping and shifting Kosovo’s demographic landscape. They can’t emigrate easily because that door has almost been shut. They can’t a proper education, either, because the education system has failed them. They can’t work because the economy creates few opportunities for them. They are a lost generation.
Yet, politicians have called them country’s greatest asset. Are they? Perhaps a better question is: could they become the country’s biggest asset if this country invested in their welfare and education? Especially in their post-secondary and vocational education, which is crucial to developing the skills that are needed to thrive in today’s labor market, compete for better jobs, increase high-skilled employment and bring prosperity.
But young people in Kosovo continue to have Europe’s lowest university enrollment rate – only 16 per cent – according to the European Commission. It is even lower than other poor countries, such as Moldova, Europe’s poorest country, which sends about 29 percent of its high school graduates to university. This fundamental lack of skilled training and low-quality education is a deadly combination, which is evident from a staggering unemployment rate of 65 per cent among 15-to-24 year-olds to the overflowing mosques, full of confused teenagers who find solace in religious teachings.
Perhaps an alternative question should also explore whether this generation is becoming Kosovo’s biggest threat. All the signs are there that they are becoming a deadly force by the day who will soon dwarf the heroic efforts undertaken by a small number of creative, bright, and entrepreneurial young people to make Kosovo an economically viable country. The consequences of leaving these young people to their own devices, to drift away, are incalculable for the future of the country, as is made evident by the number who have mutated into religious fanatics going off to fight in foreign wars – a subject I addressed recently.
Unlike the generation of the 1990s, which drew inspiration from the economic and political struggle for freedom, today’s youth is uninspired by their country and their government, and seeks meaning and identity elsewhere. Their alienation is understandable for a host of reasons because for the last 15 years their country has done very little for them while their resentment has grown toxic.
This is going to be hard. It is a monumental effort to try and come up with ideas about what to do about this threatening force in society. The first step is to accept the fact that the current youth are more of a liability for Kosovo than an asset. Understanding this should warrant action on how to address the multitude of problems that they face, from education and work to confusion over identity.
Quick fixes and short-term patches will not work. There is no silver bullet. But, making education the number one priority in the country —as supposed to opening more embassies and bickering with Serbia over petty issues — is a low-risk, rewarding investment in the long run.
Finally and perhaps most importantly the government should work on its own image. Politicians are public figures who should be aware of their civic duties. They may not see it this way, but they are supposed to serve as role models on how to build a government worthy of respect and dignity. When public officials fail this basic task, the young are not to blame for only imitating them.